


step into the daylight and let it go

by akosmia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Spoilers, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, they're just happy on naboo alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22351291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akosmia/pseuds/akosmia
Summary: "But we're here," she adds, her eyes so bright in this quiet morning light. "We're alright. We survived. We can figure the rest out, together. We have a whole lifetime for that".His hand comes to rest on her hip, gathering her against him even more, and she goes willingly, her body melting against his as if they were made for this purpose alone, two stars orbiting around each other until the moment they crash into unbearable brightness, together. They're so close he can feel her heartbeat as if it were his own and her breath ghosts over his skin through the thin material of his shirt, and it feels like light - like the sunrise outside this palace was flowing in his bones.It feels -golden.-- or: Ben and Rey, and the life they have always dreamed of.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 72
Kudos: 319
Collections: Comfort Gems 2020





	step into the daylight and let it go

**Author's Note:**

> this took way longer than i had anticipated and it's basically just ...16K words of fluff? of ben trying to heal himself after everything that's happened? an elaborate excuse to write about ben braiding rey's hair? probably all of them lbr, and i'm not ashamed of it.
> 
> i don't usually write canonverse fics because i feel like i don't know enough about the star wars universe to write about it, but you know what? after tros, i feel like i can do whatever i want, so here's that. also, i know the lake retreat probably belongs to padme's family in canon, but for the sake of this fic, since we're already ignoring canon, we're ignoring that too. if jj abrams can, then why can't i?  
> also, it doesn't get mentioned in the fic but rey's parentage reveal doesn't exist and she's still rey nobody, thank you very much.

Healing, it turns out, is not a straight process. 

Instead, it's - _messy_. It's not a clean, easy jump through hyperspace from one point of the galaxy to another - quick, efficient and time-saving, something he can accomplish before the end of the day without much thought. It resembles more a pointless quest around the galaxy with no real direction, just the fleeting thought of a destination at the end of the journey - as if he was drifting in an asteroid field, doing his best to avoid getting blown up into pieces and navigating his way out of it with extreme care. Sometimes it works. 

Sometimes it doesn't. 

The first time he steps on the Falcon, something in him breaks. 

The ship is just as he remembers it - messy, old, full of junk he thought long forgotten, and it's every bit the second home he recalls from his childhood. It looks like it always has, even back in the days - like it's two quick lightspeed jumps away from falling apart, but it's trying its best to hold it together. 

The toys he had left last time he was on board are gone, probably stolen or lost as the ship passed from owner to owner (much to Han's indignation, he supposes), but on the ceiling of the bunk he used to sleep in when he was a kid there are still his initials, carved with the hilt of his father's blaster and a great deal of determination. 

His fingers brush against the letters with reverence and he can see, in the back of his mind, his father's exasperated expression at the sight, that half smile that looked both pained and content at the same time. 

When he sits on the bunk, his body somehow still store and weak after Exegol, he has to lower his back to avoid bumping his head into the ceiling and he doesn't know why, but it's this tiny detail - the fact that he's changed so much while this ship hasn't - that makes him crumble and he has to take his face into his hands and breathe deeply, trying his best to keep the sobs at bay. 

He doesn't want to cry - he doesn't. But it feels like something it's eating away at his heart, and he thought he was done feeling torn apart, but somehow he isn't. 

He doesn't think he'll ever be. 

A soft noise of footsteps wakes him from his thoughts. 

"I need to fix the hyperdrive before we leave or our bodies will end up scattered across the galaxy. It shouldn't take more than a few hours, though," she announces, entering the quarters. She must sense him and the raging storm of thoughts he brings with him everywhere he goes, because she goes suddenly quiet, and her next word is barely a whisper, so tender it breaks his heart. "Hey". 

It takes him all his strength to lower his hands and look her in the eyes, and he feels weirdly naked as he does - as if he had unstripped himself of another layer in the process, and he's never prepared for the sense of vulnerability that always comes with it. He's spent his life making a mask out of himself, and yet, when it comes to Rey, he has bared his soul to her since the very first time and it scares him to death, but, he supposes, it's a small price to pay for being _seen_. 

"Hey," he says back, his lips pressed together. He tries his best to curve his mouth into a smile, but he knows that all he manages is a grimace. 

Rey tilts her head to the side, her eyes never leaving him, as if to study his face. There's no point in asking her how she knew he was here, in this bunk - the bond between them hums, almost happily, a shining thread to follow home. It's getting stronger, too - as if being in the same place had opened a door that had been sealed shut until now. He's still not used to be so transparent without having to fear for his life, but it feels good to be known. 

It's all he has ever wanted. 

Without saying anything, she sits next to him on the bunk, scooting closer as soon as she settles. She almost leaves no space between the two of them, their knees brushing together, and it's so _new_ , this kind of closeness, and so _tentative_ , but he cherish it. He likes the way his skin tingles, underneath his clothes, where it brush hers. 

"Ben," she whispers, in the end. He thinks he'll never get over the way she says his name, as if she was uttering something sacred. Her hand reaches for his, in the space between them, and she laces their fingers together with ease. "Ben, we don't have to take the Falcon if it's too much. We can take another ship-" 

" _No_ ," he interrupts her, his voice soft but the word so raw on his own lips. 

It feels wrong even to imagine it - he can't leave the Falcon behind, not in the hands of someone else in the Resistance, someone like Poe Dameron, who'd end up blowing it into pieces in a matter of days or setting it on fire. For a moment he allows himself to imagine his father's face upon hearing he had just _ditched_ the Falcon because _he felt like it,_ and a smile comes to rest on his lips. 

"No. I don't want to leave the Falcon behind. This is…" He looks around in search for a better word, but all it comes out of his mouth when his eyes fall again on the initials carved on the metal, is, " _Home_ ". 

She squeezes his hand, her thumb tracing small circles on the back of his hand. "This is home for me, too," she confesses. 

They don't need words, not exactly - and so she projects all her memories to him, silently. He sees, in the back of his mind where she always is, all the times she has sneaked on board just to be on her own, trying to translate the Jedi texts she stole from Luke or repairing her saber or searching for a bit of peace after being surrounded by people all day. He sees her finding comfort in the quietness of the Falcon, a place where she can be herself, just Rey and not the hero they all expect her to be. He sees her curling on this exact bunk, her arms wrapped around herself as if to feel some semblance of warmth and belonging, her fingers lingering against the initials he carved a long time ago. He even sees the few silent tears she allows herself to shed, on bad days. 

He does it without thinking - he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin for the briefest moment, and she _melts_ into his touch, as if she had been waiting for this her whole life. Her eyes flutter closed, her lashes brushing against her cheekbones, and it feels so easy to stay in this moment - to feel its warmth, its fondness, its simplicity, as if the galaxy was reduced to this only. 

"You know," he starts, then, pulling away from her just to bring his hand on the place where he has left a mark of his existence before everything fell apart. "This is where I first learned how to fly a ship. I used to beg my dad to teach me, when I was a kid. He was… well, himself about it." Rey lets out a quiet laugh, so soft it almost breaks his heart. "No one could touch the Falcon but him. But he ended up teaching me anyway and I was so _happy_. It was like being deemed worthy by my personal hero. I didn't even care that I almost crashed us on a moon on my first try, I was _elated_. I told everyone I wanted to be a pilot, just like him". 

It hurts to think about the future he could have had - if his powers hadn't been too much, if his parents had cared just a little bit more, if the galaxy had been just a little bit kinder. He can easily imagine himself, a blaster on his side and a ship underneath his feet, the whole galaxy to explore and something to outrun.

Rey smiles again and it's so soft and sweet and tender. She brings her fingers next to his, on the carved letters of his name, brushing against the mark of an existence long faded out from view, and it feels like she's telling him he can still have all of that - a lifetime he never thought he'd get, now stretching endlessly in front of him. 

"Ben Solo," she murmurs, her lips curved in that special smile of hers he's been studying in these past few days. "Pilot, smuggler, scoundrel. Yeah, I can see it". 

It feels so easy to laugh - and it's such a warm, rich sound he'd never thought it could come from him. It feels like she's waking him up, like she's slowly retrieving all the bits of the boy he used to be, underneath the shell he had made of himself. It doesn't erase all the things he's done and all the things he's been through, but it's a golden moment, suspended in time, and it feels nice, to let everything go for just a few seconds. 

"I would have swept you off your feet with my charm," he says, and her response is a laugh, such a pure sound among the wreckage of his life. 

"Oh, so you call that _charm_?"

His free hand comes to rest against her face, tucking behind her ear the few strands of hair that have escaped her tight buns. His fingers linger, then, tracing the delicate shape of her jaw, and the way she sighs as soon as his skin brushes hers makes his heart skip a few beats. 

"You changed your hair". 

She frowns slightly, confusion rolling off her at the sudden change of topic. His fingers slide down, from her jaw to her neck, to the place where the lowest of her buns brushes the skin left uncovered by her tunic, and he points at it. 

"Ah. Yes, I did," she says, quietly, her lips curved in a hesitant smile. She must read the question right off his face, because she continues. "I-after Crait, I think I wanted things to be easy again. I wanted everything to go back to the way it was, to be the same girl that had left Jakku on a crazy mission." Her voice is so low, as if she was confessing him her deepest secret, but her eyes never leave his face, as if she wanted him to _see_ her, too. He doesn't know how to tell her he's never seen anything else but her. "I wanted to pretend nothing had ever happened on Ahch-To or on the Supremacy. I wanted to hate you". 

It doesn't surprise him - he's well aware of the pain he has caused, of the horror of his actions, of the devastation he has left in his wake. And still, his heart clenches in his chest, because if only he had taken her hand earlier, if only he had believed her, then maybe things would have been different and she wouldn't have suffered this much. 

His heart is a fluttering creature in his chest when he says the next words. "But you didn't?" 

It sounds almost like a question, and he hates the vulnerability, the eagerness, the longing so easy to hear in his voice, but if there's someone in this maddening galaxy he trusts with his heart, then it's Rey. 

She smiles, nuzzling into his touch. He doesn't have to search her feelings for an answer - it's like her feelings echoed in him and he knows already what she's going to say, but it still takes his breath away. 

Her eyes are unbearably soft when she replies. "Of course I didn't". 

It's so devastatingly easy to lean in and kiss her. It's still so hesitant and unsure, a brush of his lips against hers, so soft and gentle it turns his heart into a mess of longing and hope, but she brings her hands into his hair and sighs so tenderly against his mouth, as if she had been waiting for this moment her whole life, and he thinks he'd gladly give his soul for this, for her. His hand rests at the back of her neck, fingers gently stroking her skin and at some point he feels her smile in the kiss, her happiness spilling into him, a tide that drags him under. He never wants to resurface again. 

When he pulls away, he knows his cheeks are red and his hands are shaking, but she's smiling again, so brightly he forgets everything else, and it feels _right_ , for the first time in his life. His hand trails up and comes to brush again against her buns, and he searches her face for permission. 

Her breath hitches on her lips, but she nods. 

He's very gentle and delicate with it, his fingers still deft and nimble from the nights he's spent braiding his mother's hair, following her careful instructions. He thinks, as he lets Rey's hair down, about all the intricate patterns of Alderaanian braids he has learned in his youth, and he dies for the chance of weaving messages of love and devotion in her hair. He will, he thinks, in time - after all, they have all the time of the world. 

Her eyes flutter closed as he works on her hair and she hums happily when he threads his fingers through her soft strands, now freed from their tight updo. When he's done, her hair falls in messy waves around her face, brushing against her shoulders and she looks so _beautiful_ , a vision come true as daylight filters through the viewports. He can't believe he gets to see her, to hold her, to kiss her. 

His hand comes to tuck a strand behind her ear just to take a look at her face - so dear, so loved. He's spent a year imagining the pattern of freckles on the bridge of her nose, committing it to his memory as if terrified by the idea of forgetting it. Forgetting her. 

As if he ever could. 

He surges forward again to press a chaste kiss to her lips and she sighs, her arms wrapping around him as if they were two puzzle pieces finally falling into places. 

"So," she starts on his lips, her smile pressed against his. They kiss like two teenagers - grinning so wildly he thinks it doesn't even _count_ as a kiss - but he can't find it in himself to complain. "Where does a scoundrel like you go, when he wants to settle down?" 

_Settle down_. The idea makes his insides do funny things and he finds himself grinning again, as he's never done in years. 

He allows himself to think about the life he can have, for the first time - he hasn't, surely not before and not even in these days since they came back to the Resistance after Exegol. It all felt so delicate and he hadn't dared to _hope_ , terrified of being separated from Rey. He was certain the Resistance would have him tried for his crimes - instead, they're letting him go. 

_Kylo Ren is dead_ , Poe had told him with a weary sigh the day after Exegol, eyeing him as if he couldn't believe he was seeing the same Ben who had convinced him to jump-start Han's speeder only to end up crashing into a tree when they were kids. _For all intents and purposes, he died on the Death Star. Ben Solo, on the other hand… he can do some good in this galaxy._

The images swirl in his head before he catches them - a peaceful planet, somewhere quiet where the war would be just a memory. Somewhere green and alive, somewhere as beautiful as Rey, where she can be happy. A place where things can _grow_. 

"I've got just the place," he says, in the end, his lips curved in another smile. It feels so new, to smile like this or maybe to smile at all, but he likes the novelty of it. He gets up, carefully not to bump his head on the ceiling of the bunk, and holds out his hand for her to take. She does it with no hesitation. "Let's go fix the hyperdrive so we can finally leave. I can help". 

Her raised eyebrows elicit another smile from him. "When exactly did you learn know how to fix ships?" 

It's easy to tug at her hand and bring her closer, gently, her body so warm and soft against his, fitting so perfectly. His lips brush against her temple and she hums, her eyes fluttering shut for just a second, as if to savor this moment. Both of them are still smiling and he feels so full of love right now - a golden moment in a lifetime of darkness. 

"Who do you think you're talking to?" he asks her, making raise her eyebrows even more, her smile bordering on incredulous. "I'll have you know that I'm perfectly capable of fixing this ship. I'm a Solo. I've spent most of my childhood on a ship, you know. _This_ ship". 

He's seen a few things in his thirty years - he's seen stars and nebulas and planets and marvels, but, he thinks, there's nothing in the galaxy quite like the feeling of hearing Rey muffle a laugh against his chest. She laughs so prettily - her whole body shivers and her face lights up and he can sense her happiness, echoing in his soul, and it comes as a shock, the notion that he manages to make her this happy. 

"Let's go, then," she tells him, grabbing his hand and dragging him along. He goes willingly - he thinks he'd gladly let her lead him anywhere. "Let's see how good you are". 

The smile she throws at him over her shoulder is bright and warm and it feels like his life is finally beginning. 

*

By the time they finally land on Naboo, as gracefully as the Falcon allows (which is to say, not at all), Rey's eyes are shining and she's grinning so wildly it takes his breath away. 

There's such an infectious joy about her - she's staring at the planet the way a child would stare at a present and her happiness is a living thing, humming in the space between them and spilling into him again, an overflowing current that almost makes him dizzy. 

"I've never seen anything so beautiful. This is _perfect_ ," she whispers, awed, once they leave the hangar to step outside in the light. 

They're on the terrace of Varykino. The sun is slowly setting, panting the crystal lake in front of them in vibrant shades of pink and orange and turning this world into a quiet masterpiece, but rather than looking at it, he finds his eyes captured by the way those radiant colors reflect on her face, all the shades of the sunset dancing on her skin, softening the sharp angles of her jaw and cheekbones and making her look almost like a vision - something taken out one of his dreams. 

He still can't believe she's real.

Her hair brushes against her shoulders so gently when she turns into his direction, her smile softer somehow, just a gentle press of lips. He's starting to think this is a smile she reserves for him only, and his heart soars at the thought. 

Her eyes are a galaxy in their own right, full of fondness and tenderness and love when she speaks. "How did you know?" she asks him, tilting her head to the side. "This is exactly what I always dreamed of. How did you know?" 

The sunset behind her back casts a soft glow on her chestnut hair, making it look almost auburn, and she looks radiant and fierce and loving at the same time. He thinks he'll never love anything the way he loves her, as if his soul was made for this purpose alone. 

He stretches out a hand and grasp hers, intertwining their fingers, gently tugging at her to bring her closer, never stop marveling at the fact that she follows him so easily. 

He's sitting on a stone bench, still recovering from his wounds, so when Rey steps closer he has to crane his head back to look at her. He doesn't mind - she paints such a perfect picture against the pink of the sunset he'd do anything for the chance of looking up at her in adoration. 

His thumb strokes the back of her hand, slowly. "I know you," he says, simply, as if to let her know that he's seen her soul and loves her for it. Her surprise echoes in him like the last few notes of a silvery melody and she looks at him with a mixture of amazement and fondness that makes his heart twist again. It feels so easy to bring her hand to his mouth and press a reverent kiss to her knuckles, and the surprise in her soul fades into something warmer, something that feels like home. _Home_ , what a strange, marvelous thought. "I hope you like it here". 

She lets go of his hand only to cup his face, tilting his head backwards so she can look at him in the eyes. She's _radiant_ \- so full of light it almost looks like the sunset is pouring out of her skin, bursts of pink and orange falling from her fingertips, her hair, her lips. She's dripping warmth and love and tenderness and he wants to drown in it. 

"Of course I do," she replies, so earnestly it takes his breath away. Her fingers stroke his cheek, slowly. "It's perfect". 

His arms come to wrap around her frame so easily he doesn't even have to think about it. He's never been so free in his affection - he's never allowed himself to _want_ it, to crave this kind of love, too terrified of the terrible longing that came with it. Loving always felt like losing a part of himself, a piece of his soul brutally ripped away from him - and instead, now it feels like being made whole again by virtue of her gentle touch. 

His hands tremble slightly when he looks at her. "Are you sure about this?" 

A frown appears on her face, her confusion spilling into him. Her hand comes to brush a few strands of hair from his forehead, as if she could read the answers on the lines of his face. "What do you mean?" 

He swallows, the words somehow stuck in his throat, and yet, he knows he has to say it. 

"Are you sure about living here? With me?" _Are you sure about me at all_ , he wants to ask her, but he can't find the strength to say it because her answer, after everything he's seen, terrifies him to death. "You deserve so much more than whatever I can offer you, Rey. You're a _legend_. The galaxy-" 

"The galaxy may need a legend," she whispers, a softness about her that makes his heart twist. "I need _you_ ".

It's too much. He doesn't think he's ever had someone to _need_ him - he's always felt like he was the one to _need_ , almost to the point of madness, always begging others to love him, to save him, to _see_ him. He's always been desperate, eager, starving for just a bit of affection, of praise, of love - so hungry for any semblance of care that he let Snoke poison his mind just for a scrap of his approval. He doesn't know how to be needed. 

He barely realizes what he's doing but he ends up resting his head against her chest, breathing her in, his forehead pressed against the place where her heart beats. It's such a pure, unfiltered sound - he's spent what it feels like a lifetime imagining it, her racing heart pressed against his as he held her in his dreams. There's no surprise on the other end of the bond - she wraps her arms around his shoulders as if she'd been waiting for this all her life, and her hands come to thread through his hair and it feels so nice to let go for a minute and let her hold him like this, broken and vulnerable as he is. 

"I'm not-" He swallows back the sob that threatens to split his lips open and crack his chest. "You deserve so much more and I'm-" 

"I want this," she says, so surely, as she cards her fingers through his hair. "I don't care about what I _deserve_. I _want_. I want this planet and this life and I want _you_ ".

_I was never allowed to want_ , she tells him through the bond, and he sees what she's trying to show him - a child growing up in the desert, loneliness and harsh winds and the relics of an old war her only company. A girl like that couldn't want anything - the notion of wanting was a luxury, in a world where all she could do was survive. But now - now the world is kinder and she's not alone anymore and she can want. 

And she wants _him_. 

Being wanted - what a strange, wonderful idea. He doesn't know if he's ever been wanted before - sure, his parents must have loved him at some point, but he can't remember it, all his memories tangled together by the dark thread of Snoke's words. But now, now he _knows_ . Now she wants him and the thought makes him feel like he's been stabbed again - a sudden jolt somewhere near his heart, but this time it's pleasant and warm and _right_. 

He tilts his head back but doesn't pull away from her - instead, he presses a kiss to the place where her heart beats, under the layers of clothes, and he can feel it starting to race under his lips. It such a tiny detail, but he's so endeared by it - by the physicality of it, by her mere presence, solid and real in front of him. His lips curve out of their own accord, as they press against her heart. 

"I want this, too. I want you," he says, in the end, planting a last, lingering kiss on her chest. His voice sounds raw and uneven, but he doesn't shy away from it this time. This time, he allows himself to feel the longing that has always eaten away at his heart since he was a kid, knowing he doesn't have to beg for love anymore. "I've never wanted anything else". 

Her smile is as soft and beautiful as the sunset behind her. "I know". 

*

The light of the sunrise filters through the windows of the bedroom and hits him with all its golden force, prying his eyes open. 

It takes him a moment to remember where he is, after a lifetime spent in the darkness. His conditioned response to a bright light hovering above him is to tense in fear and reach out for his lightsaber, but then the memories come flooding in, warm and reassuring and so full of love they take his breath away, and he breathes out in relief, sagging against the mattress again. 

It comes to him in flashes. Rey's arms wrapped around his middle, her face pressed between his shoulder blades as she kisses a path along his spine while he tries his best not to burn up their dinner _again_ despite having no idea of how to cook dinner in the first place. Her bright smile and the bond brimming with happiness as they set out to explore the forest around the retreat, her head turning so fast as if to take everything in before it disappears from her, the light filtered by the trees dancing on her face. The way she clings to him, her chest pressed to his back, when they go swimming in the lake for the first time and she doesn't let go of him for the whole time. The softness of the hair at the nape of her neck, when he plants a kiss there, making her sigh and melt against him. The solidity of her hand in his when, despite his stuttered, blushing protests she leads him to the bedroom with the same determination she does everything with, as if she dared him to contradict her.

Memories of a lifetime he never thought he'd ever get. 

His eyes slowly adjust to the light as he feels the familiar weight of Rey's head on his chest. It's such a peaceful picture - her hair is splayed all around her, her hand resting right over his heart, her legs tangled with his underneath the sheets. She snores softly in her sleep, which he shouldn't find so endearing and yet his heart seems to grow too big for his own chest at the sight. A deep sense of calm settles over him, as if all the tension had suddenly gone out of him. 

It feels new, this kind of quiet. 

He doesn't know how to accept it. He doesn't even know how to understand it. 

His whole life, he's been at war - even when he was a kid and his family loved him, there was something inside him that was tearing him apart, breaking his soul, turning every happy moment into something bitter, turning his fears into anger and his anger into something volatile and lethal. Turning the scared little boy he remembers from his childhood into a monster. 

He doesn't know if he knows how to be something else. 

"I can hear you think," Rey whines, groggily, pulling him away from his dark thoughts. The sunrise gives her skin a faint golden glow, and the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose look like a constellation in which he wants to lose himself. She pokes his chest, her lips curved in a pout. "Stop it". 

He laughs under his breath at her sleepiness, genuinely enthralled by it as he is by everything she does. 

"I'm so sorry I woke you up," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. He presses a kiss to her forehead, pulling her closer and she hums, nuzzling her face into his nightshirt and fisting its fabric, as if to prevent him from slipping away. "I didn't mean to". 

His arm rests at her waist, his fingers running up and down her side, tracing small patterns over the fabric of her tunic. It's languid and lazy and he loves every minute of it - it feels like he could spend his whole life like this, holding Rey in his arms, basking in her presence. 

"S'alright," she murmurs, her words slurred together, then she clears her throat and her eyes slowly flutter open as she raises her head to look at him, her gaze somehow unfocused. Her smile is such a soft thing, sleepy and delicate. "Are you okay?" 

He nods, swallowing. "Yes," he replies. He doesn't know why their voices are so low - it almost feels like they're afraid of ruining the sacred, golden calm of this moment. Her gaze gets sharper and she looks at him expectantly, as if already knowing there's more to the story. "It's just… so quiet here," he adds, bringing a hand to his temple.

She props her head on hand as she studies him, sleep already forgotten, her eyes focused on him. When she speaks, her voice is just as soft as before, but he can sense the worry flickering in her mind. "Isn't that a good thing?" 

He nods again, then lets out a shuddering breath and tries to smile at her. "Yes," he says, his voice barely audible. Her gaze never leaves him, but it's not unpleasant - it feels like she's trying to _understand_ him. It's probably the first time someone tries, and for that, he thinks, she deserves the truth. "I just don't know how to be this person. This person who doesn't hear voices".

Her fingers trace imaginary pattern over the fabric of his tunic, gentle and delicate as if not to scare him away, and linger right over the place where his heart is beating. 

He knows what she's seeing - there, in that corner of their mind where they're always connected, an uninterrupted conversation between their souls. He knows she's sensing it - the fears, the voices, the memories of it all haunting his heart, just as he can sense her own scars, buzzing beneath the quiet surface of this moment, as if waiting for the opportunity to strike. 

"We're here now," she whispers, in the end, as if to reassure him and herself both. Her hand rests on the place where his heart beats and it feels like she's grounding him, tethering him to her. A luminous thread lighting his way home when he gets lost in his own thoughts. "I don't know how to be the person who isn't waiting for someone who's never going to come back, either".

The kiss he presses on her forehead is an act of worship, full of devotion, as if to remind her she's not alone anymore, and Rey smiles as soon as his lips press against her skin - as if sensing all the love he's poured in that gesture. 

"But we're here," she adds, her eyes so bright in this quiet morning light. "We're alright. We survived. We can figure the rest out, together. We have a whole lifetime for that". 

His hand comes to rest on her hip, gathering her against him even more, and she goes willingly, her body melting against his as if they were made for this purpose alone, two stars orbiting around each other until the moment they crash into unbearable brightness, together. They're so close he can feel her heartbeat as if it were his own and her breath ghosts over his skin through the thin material of his shirt, and it feels like _light_ \- like the sunrise outside this palace was flowing in his bones. 

It feels - _golden_. 

There's so much they still have face, so much they have to talk about, so much he has to apologize for. So many wounds that have still to heal. But this moment - this moment is painted in golden light and it's blessed and it's theirs. They can figure it out together from here. 

"You're right," he says, in the end, letting out a deep breath that rattles him to his core. It feels like letting his fears and his doubts and his ghosts go for just a shining moment, letting light flow freely, warming what was frozen deep inside him. 

"I usually am," it's her reply. 

The grin she reserves him is radiant and he notices she's got dimples he can't help but be fascinated by. He'd never seen them before Exegol. 

It feels so easy to snort, bringing his hands at the small of her back to feel her warmth. She rests rests just as easily half draped on top of him as she is and he almost can't believe they had never held each other like this up until a few weeks ago - it's like this intense intimacy had been there from the very start, pulling them towards each other, two lost souls finding each other in a ever-expanding galaxy despite time and war and death. A dyad, he muses - it feels like he's been waiting for her his whole life. 

"Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he says, with a smirk, humoring her. "That's a bit presumptuous, isn't it?". 

"Forgive me for doubting your _outstanding_ thinking skills," she starts, her eyebrows dangerously high on her forehead. "But, and correct me if I'm wrong, I seem to recall your idea of running to help me was storming a Sith Lord's lair unarmed". 

"Hey!" His lips curve into a pout, eliciting a snort from her. "I wasn't unarmed. I had a blaster". 

"A _Sith Lord_ 's lair". 

"I was more worried about coming to help you, you know," he tells her, poking her in her side and making her laugh again. 

"And what was your plan, exactly?" she asks, her fingers slowly snaking their way up his chest. When they brush against his lips, tracing the outline with the utmost tenderness, he knows he has already lost this fight - and, for the first time in his existence, he doesn't mind it in the slightest. He thinks he'd gladly lose to her any day of his life. "Shooting the Emperor in the face?" 

"You got me there," he concedes, raising his hands as if to declare his defeat. It feels so easy, so disarmingly familiar - he likes far too much this practiced dance between the two of them, sparring as they've always done from the very beginning, even when it was way less gentle than this. "I surrender". 

She lets out a content little hum, her fingers on his mouth now, thumb stroking his bottom lip. "Then, I want to claim my prize". 

It feels like warmth and light cascading on him, when Rey bends down to kiss him. They've done almost nothing else but kiss in these blessed days on Naboo, soft lips and trembling hands, just learning each other and memorizing every fervent whisper, every little gasp, every tentative brush of lips against warm skin. It's like learning a language he doesn't quite manage to speak yet, but it feels instinctive to wrap an arm around her and bring her closer, his hand coming to rest on her cheek, his fingers winding up in the loose waves of her hair. It's like holding a star in his arms and it should burn, but instead he feels at home - as if, after all the heartbreak and pain and sorrow, he had found his place in this vast, maddening galaxy.

"Though you have to admit," he says on her lips, when she breaks away to catch her breath. "Your thinking skills aren't that much better". 

Her eyes glint with mirth when he catches her gaze. "Are you going to be so insufferable for the rest of our lives?" 

_The rest of our lives_. It's unbelievable and absurd and all-around impossible, and yet, the most incredible thing is the fact that all of this - it's _true_.

"I don't know," he replies, feeling a smile finding its way on his lips. It's so new and delicate and raw the muscles of his face almost ache, but he likes to think he's getting better at it. "Maybe you should find a way to shut me up. For your own sake, obviously". 

Thankfully, she does. 

*

The first time he braids Rey's hair is almost a sacred experience. 

Her hair is getting longer, falling down her shoulders in gentle waves, sticking to her face when they spar from time to time, curling against her neck when she emerges from the shower. It brushes her shoulder blades when she throws her head back to raise her eyes to the night sky, watching the stars scattered against the darkness, and Ben can't stop looking at those strands, falling on her back like the waves of an ocean. 

It never ceases to amaze him, the way she seems to absorb the colors of the world around her, as if she changed with the light. He's deeply fascinated by the way her chestnut hair turns auburn in the soft light of the sunset and almost dark during the night, captivating him like nothing else does. 

It's a quiet night - quiet like every other night on Naboo, where the only sound they can hear for miles is the rushing of the waterfalls in the distance, a muffled thing that reminds him of Rey's breath when she sleeps next to him. They're sitting side by side on the balcony of their bedchamber as they often do - wrapped in a blanket, watching the sky as if to map out the stars, just because they can and there's nothing to stop them now. 

It's incredibly peaceful and he should be able to enjoy this moment and this quiet, and instead the silence feels _unsettling_. 

It's not a conscious sensation - it feels more like some kind of tension in his muscles that he doesn't know how to shake off. 

He's not used to it - there's never been silence around him since before he can remember and it takes him a conscious effort to stay still, his muscles twitching as if in anticipation. He feels restless, and it reminds him of all the times Master Skywalker used to scold him for his lack of focus during meditation, a lifetime ago. 

Rey notices, of course - she knows him so well and can read all his tells, his soul an open book to her eyes. Her hand comes to rest on his crossed knee, as if to stop his nervous movements. Her touch is grounding - he can feel himself let go of the storm of thoughts clouding up his mind and come back to this quiet, to this moment, to her. 

"Breathe. Everything's alright, just breathe," she tells him, her voice barely above a whisper. It still carries to him, hitting him in that special place of his heart she has taken for herself right from the first moment. Then, she gifts him a smile. "Force, were you this bad at meditation, too?". 

His lips twitch in a matching smile as he covers her hand with his own, intertwining their fingers so easily. It still comes as a shock to him, the electricity of her touch - a physical sensation that buzzes just underneath his skin. It feels pleasant. Good. He hadn't known what _good_ meant, until Rey had brushed her fingertips against his, that night so long ago - he had forgotten what a kind touch felt like, if he ever knew. 

"You have no idea," he tells her, flashing her the smile he's getting used to - one he didn't remember he was capable of. "I'm pretty sure Master Skywalker spent more time trying to teach me how to clear my mind than doing anything else. Not that it _worked_ , but still". 

Her giggle is a quiet little sound that makes his heart go tight in his chest. "I was pretty bad too," she admits, bumping their shoulders together as if they were partners in crime in this. "I'm _still_ pretty bad at it, but there's no one around to scold me for it now". 

The way she always manages to tear a laughter out of him doesn't really surprises him, but does something to his soul, as if putting all the broken pieces of it back together. 

"I'm sorry, I still have to get used to this," he murmurs, then, studying their joined hands. He brushes his thumb against her knuckles, caressing the delicate skin there, still somewhat amazed that he gets to do this. "This quiet. Sometimes it makes me so _restless_ ".

He doesn't know how to explain it - how to tell her that now that he doesn't have to fear for everything, it feels like he doesn't know what to do with half of the energy he has. He's spent his whole life being afraid, in some way or another, and now that he can finally let his fears go, there's so much more of _him_ that he didn't know it even _existed_ , buried underneath it all. His body twitches like a malfunctioning wire in the controls of a ship and his hands itch as if to do _something_. 

And then, before he can stop himself - 

"Can I braid your hair?" 

The words leave his mouth before he even realizes what he's saying and the awareness of it only comes when Rey's eyes widen a little bit and her mouth opens, in surprise.

She blinks at him. "Braid my hair?" 

"Yes," he says, though he feels way less certain than he sounds. 

It's difficult to voice his desires, after a lifetime of rejection and denial - he doesn't know if he's allowed to _want_ anything. But Rey's eyes are gentle and she looks at him as if to encourage him to talk, and so he continues. 

"I used to help my mother to braid her hair when I was a kid and- it calmed me a lot, I suppose. Plus," he adds, bringing his free hand at the base of his neck, nervously rubbing his skin. He knows he's blushing, but something in the way Rey looks at him makes him go on. "I think you'd look beautiful". 

There's a moment of silence and then - 

"Oh." Rey's lips curve into that special smile of hers that she reserves for him only - soft and tender and loving, something so pure and sweet it takes his breath away and turns his heart in a thundering mess. She nods, squeezing his hand before letting him go. "Alright, you can braid my hair". 

The happiness he feels in his heart is explosive. 

He only leaves her side to get a comb and some ribbons and when he comes back and sits behind her, Rey lets the blanket go, as if to feel his fingers brush against the nape of her neck as he gathers her hair. A shiver passes through her body when his skin meets hers and he can't help himself - he leans in, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, only covered by the flimsy nightgown she has found in one of the closets and has taken to wear, and she hums under her breath, almost melting in his embrace. 

Then, he pulls always and gathers her hair, marveling at its softness. It's thick and so, so _soft_ , now that she can afford the luxury of a bath, and running the comb through it with the utmost care feels almost like a privilege. 

"Your hair is so pretty," he tells her. 

The chuckle she lets out is soft and gentle as the rest of this moment. 

"Not as pretty as yours," she replies, but he senses no teasing from her this time. She's not mocking him - she's stating the obvious, which comes as another shock to him, because no one has paid him a compliment in a very long time. "It's so soft and silky. You look like a _prince_ ". 

He buries a laughter in her shoulder, pressing another kiss just because he can, and also because he doesn't know how to react. His face feels flustered and he knows he's blushing again and there's something warm in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't mind, not really - it's just _new_. 

"I don't," he retorts, as he settles down the comb and runs his fingers through her hair. She lets out a pleased sigh when he starts to work his way around her strands, gently, and the sound makes him shiver. "And your hair is beautiful. _You_ are beautiful". 

He's never been good with words, so instead of telling her exactly how beautiful she is, he projects her what he sees every time he looks at her - the brightness of her eyes, the softness of her smile, the beauty of the sharp lines of her face, the entrancing dip of her dimples. The little nose scrunch she does when she's annoyed with him. The wrinkle in the middle of her eyebrows that only appears when she's perplexed. The fierceness in her gaze he glimpse every time he says something cruel about himself - the same fierceness he'd noticed on Starkiller Base when she'd circled him, feral and lethal and so utterly beautiful among the snow, a goddess he'd would have given anything to worship. 

Her surprise is a living thing, thrumming in the bond. "Even then? On Starkiller?"

He doesn't know how to tell her that he fell in love with her the moment she cracked his mind open and saw inside his soul, reading him as no one else had before, so he settles for pressing a kiss on the nape of her neck. 

"Of course," he murmurs. 

It's been a long time since he last braided someone's hair and his fingers are not as nimble as he thought they were, but it feels nice to let go of all his thoughts just to focus on this moment, crossing one strand over another, twisting it, weaving a message of love and devotion in her hair. There's no storm, no restlessness, no fear - there's just this moment, her hair in his hands, the soft noise of her breath, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees. He doesn't remember the most elaborate patterns his mother had taught him in his childhood, so he sticks to something simple as he cards his fingers through her hair, but there's something almost holy in this intimacy.

"This feels so nice," she murmurs, her voice low, a far-away quality about it, as if she was lost in the moment. "I've never had someone to brush my hair or braid it. Not that I remember, at least". 

It's difficult to talk around the lump in his throat, but he tries all the same. "I'll do it," he replies, carefully twisting one strand over another, trying to pour in the gesture everything he doesn't know how to say out loud. "Anytime you want, I'll do it. I love braiding your hair". 

She lets out a deep breath and he can sense she's touched by his words, even if she tries her best not to show it. He knows it, anyway - he can sense it by the tremble in her shoulders when she breathes, by the way her heart races, by the marvel she feels in her soul, echoing in his. 

"Did you mother teach you this?" she asks, then, so softly he could have missed it, were his senses not attuned to her. 

He hums in response, so focused on his work he barely realizes he's talking. "Yes. Braiding was an important tradition on Alderaan and I guess she wanted to honor what was left of her home. She used to braid my hair, too".

Countless memories of his mother, sitting on his bed and showing him how to braid her hair or how to work his own strands, flood his mind and for the first time the images aren't painful or full of resentment or grief - they're sweet and tender and so full of _love_. He remembers her smile, the way she'd bend down to press a kiss to his cheek, her delicate fingers crossing and twisting his locks to make a crown out of his hair, fit for a prince. Time and hatred and loneliness had burned these memories, turning them into ashes just to fuel his rage and his pain, but now - now the voices are finally gone and it's quiet and maybe, maybe he's finally learning how to be himself for the first time in his life, reclaiming what was stolen from him.

He'll never stop missing it - the life he could have had if the world had been just a little bit kinder. But this is the world he has helped save, somehow, and he'll learn to live in it, in time. 

Rey must sense his thoughts because he can feel her reaching out with her mind, brushing against his soul with a lover's tenderness. 

"Will you teach me one day?" she asks him, her voice almost tentative. He raises his eyes from his work only to look at her - her profile soft and gentle in the moonlight, a faint shade of pink on her cheeks. Her freckles look almost silver in this light, and he wants to kiss every one of them. "So I can braid your hair, too". 

She turns slightly into his direction to gift him one of her smile - his very favorite, soft and gentle and delicate, the smile that always manages to turn his heart into a quivering mess, and he feels her love for him like a shining, golden thread he follows home. 

A matching smile spreads in his lips and he feels a warmth in the pit of his stomach he had never felt before. "Of course," he replies. Then, he pins the braid on its place and lets go of her hair, his fingers lightly brushing against her nape as he does. "There you go". 

Her smile turns brighter as she turns fully into his direction, her hands flying to her hair as if to trace with her fingers the patterns he has woven in her locks. Her happiness is a living thing, humming in the bond, glittering in the back of her eyes, resting of the curve of her lips and Ben is taken aback by this strange, wonderful woman who saw him when no one else did and thought there was something worth fighting for in the wreckage of his soul and - Force, he loves her. He loves her as if his life finally made sense because of it. 

"How do I look?" she asks, her checks still dusted by a faint trace of pink. 

He leans in to cup her right cheek, thumb stroking her skin as if to memorize the pattern of freckles smattered there, and she sighs, pressing a kiss into his palm with disarming ease. "Perfect as always". 

A chuckle escapes her lips. "You're getting so _sentimental_ ," she tells him, poking him in the chest, right where his heart is beating so loudly against his ribs. "Who ever knew Ben Solo was so romantic underneath it all?"

Moonlight shines on them when he leans in and captures her lips in a long, languid kiss. It's slow and deep and perfect, her hands curling into his hair, his arm encircling her waist to bring her closer, and when her tongue slides against his, it feels like the universe is exploding underneath his skin. The soft noise she breathes against his mouth when he pulls away is enough to send his heart into utter chaos. 

"Don't act as if you don't like it," he murmurs on her lips, before kissing her again, and for once she doesn't complain. 

*

Sometimes, the nightmares come back. 

Most nights are fine - he manages to sleep soundly for the first time in his whole life and he wakes up rested and oddly peaceful in Rey's embrace. She steals the blankets and sprawls on the bed like a kid, snoring softly as she rests her head on his chest - and yet, it's the best sleep he's ever had. 

But some nights, the nightmares come back. He's been living with them his whole life - at some point, he'd thought nightmares were all he was made of, a black void where a frightened boy used to be, and he knows, he _knows_ there's no use in being afraid, but he hasn't quite managed to convince himself of it. 

In his nightmare, shadows are all around him - the blackness of the abyss in which he was thrown and the darkness of his own blood on his hands as he tries to climb out of it despite his broken bones and bleeding wounds. He senses, as a physical stab to his gut, the moment Rey's heart stops beating, a pulse suddenly going quiet in the Force, and his grip falters, letting him fall even further down, his palms scraping against the jagged rocks when he finds his balance again. 

Rey's body is lying in a pool of light. It feels like he's crawling home to it - to her, to the light, to the soul he had thought long lost, but there's no home or comfort in it anymore, there's nothing but cold, unforgiving brightness, as fierce and strong and unrelenting as darkness had been. She's gone, empty eyes that stare up at a sky without any star, and all that's left of her is this lifeless body and a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be. There's no familiar ripple in the Force, there where her presence was strong and steady in his soul. 

Her body is so _small_ , when he takes her into his arms - smaller than he remembered, as if without that spitfire attitude and that fierce determination of hers, he's finally noticing how young she actually is. Too young, far too young to die on this wretched planet, alone and desperate, paying the price for his mistakes. 

_You did this_ , a familiar voice whispers in his mind, insidious as always, _you did this, she died because of you, because you weren't able to prevent this, because what good can come from your love when everyone you've ever loved is dead?_

His grief is as violent as the rest of his emotions - it explodes in a painful burst, making the world around him tremble, and for the first time in his life his rage feels _right_. He wants this planet to crumble down to nothing, wants the galaxy to burn, wants to be the one to set fire to every single star out there and watch as they tear a hole into the fabric of reality. He lets the pain drag him under and just as he's finally surrendering to it -

-he's shaken awake. 

"Ben," a voice whispers, quietly. 

His first instinct is to jolt, his heart beating in his chest like a frightened little creature, but then a hand comes to rest on his cheek, warm and oh so _gentle_ , and he feels a rush of tenderness and love flood his mind as delicate fingers cup his jaw, and the tension melts away, leaving only a well-known weariness behind _._

When his eyes flutter open and adjust to the darkness around them, Rey comes into sharp focus, lying on her side right in front of him. He senses her presence before he even glimpses her - a ripple in the Force, as if the whole galaxy was pointing him into her direction. Her chest rises and falls with a rhythm that brings tears to his eyes and he feels her heartbeat in the space between them, echoing his own. 

The relief is so overwhelming he lets out a sob. 

" _Ben_ ," she whispers again, her voice even softer. Her hand sinks into his hair, fingers threading through the strands in a soothing gesture, while her thumb wipes the few tears that have fallen from his eyes. Her presence is a steady pulse in the fabric of reality, warmth pouring from her as if she was the heart of a distant star. "Hey. You're alright, you're safe. It was just a nightmare. You're safe". 

His body moves out of his own accord - it feels like every part of him aches to know she's really here and not just another memory he has conjured to absolve himself of the weight he feels on his shoulders, and so he all but _crashes_ into her, resting his head in the crook of her neck and breathing her in, muffling his sobs against the warmth of her skin. 

Rey doesn't seem surprised by this turn of events and gently wraps her arms around him, gathering him against her, enveloping him in her embrace. It feels like being bathed in light, an incredible sense of _rightness_ settling over him, and it reminds him of days long gone spent on Chandrila's quiet beaches, running with his father by his side, the sunlight warming his skin, chasing away the lingering darkness of his childhood nightmares. 

"You're safe," she keeps murmuring, her fingers carding through his hair, her other hand running up and down his spine as if to reassure him. "You're here, you're alright. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise". 

He can't help the desperate sob clawing its way out of his throat at her words, because she's so - she's just so _Rey_ , worrying about him, reassuring him, reminding him he's _safe_ and _home_ and _loved_ , and he doesn't know how to tell her that all of this wouldn't have any meaning without her, that the only home he has ever known is the warmth of her embrace and the press of her lips to his forehead. 

"You're here," he breathes out, instead. His arm snakes around her waist and his hand comes to fist the fabric of her nightgown, almost forcefully, as if she could disappear like sand between his fingers and he could prevent it by digging his fingers into her skin. 

He can _feel_ her - all around him and everywhere, a tangle of limbs and emotion, the jolt of her touch on him and the warmth of her presence in his mind, and somehow it's still not enough to calm him down, because she was _gone_ and he'd felt, for a terrible moment, the stillness and the silence in that part of his soul where she resides. 

Her confusion echoes in the bond. "Of course I am, why would- _oh_." She must sense the path his thoughts have taken, because her grip on him tightens and her breath hitches on her throat. "That's what you were having a nightmare about". 

It's not a question, but he nods all the same against her skin, his head buried in her neck. Her nightgown is damp with his tears, but she says nothing - just keeps stroking his hair in a soothing manner, her lips pressed to his temple as if she could rewrite his memories somehow.

They stay like this for what it feels a lifetime. Not a word is said out loud, but the place where their soul meet is flooding with emotions - his relief, her reassurance, and a pure, shining, golden thread of love. He doesn't know if it's his or hers and, he supposes, in the end it doesn't matter.

It's theirs, after all. 

"It's alright," she murmurs, when his sobs have ebbed. Her voice is soft, and it sounds like home, like forgiveness, like all the things he hasn't allowed himself to dream of for years. "I'm here. I'm alright. We're alright". 

His mouth lingers on her pulse point just for the sake of feeling her heartbeat - such a deafening, wonderful sound - underneath his lips. "I'm sorry," he says.

He doesn't actually know what he's apologizing for - maybe for waking her up with his nightmare or maybe for letting her die in the first place. Maybe for both. It feels like his life is a lesson in remorse and this is no exception. 

Rey's gentle sigh echoes in the quiet, comfortable darkness of their bedroom. "Don't apologize," she murmurs. He can feel her chest rise and fall against him, can feel the vibrations of her voice as they echo within his own body, her pulse underneath his mouth. Her fingers are still carding through his hair, so gently, when she adds, "Do you want to talk about it?"

A few seconds pass like this and he wonders how to convey all the horror, the dread, the rage and the unbearable pain of believing her dead. He's lived with pain his whole life - it's been his only friend through the years, the only thing he could turn to when the world around him was out to get him, the only constant through his existence. He'd believed pain was something he knew all too well - and yet, the moment he'd found her lifeless body he'd realized all this time he'd been just a child playing with something he knew nothing about. 

"You were dead," he says, in the end. Her heart picks up under his lips and his fingers dig into the fabric of her tunic, as if to protect her from the thought. "You were dead and nothing made sense anymore, and I- there was so much _pain_ and so much _silence_ and I just wanted it to _stop_ … I couldn't feel you anymore and it felt like a part of me had died too. You were gone, you were just _gone_ and what was I supposed to do without you? I-"

His words are cut off by another sob. He cries into her neck once again and Rey holds him through it, murmuring sweet words of reassurance to his ear, enveloping him into her love and in her presence. 

"You saved me," she tells him, sweetly. "You saved me. I'm here now, Ben".

And he knows - he knows she's here, she's holding him, she's sharing with him this quiet little life he never dared to hope for, he knows it. But when he closes his eyes, he still sees the image of her broken body, her fixed expression, the emptiness of her eyes, the dreadful silence in the Force and he can't-

\- he can't breathe. 

"I'm sorry," he says again, against her skin. He knows he's holding her so tightly she must be bruising, but she says nothing - she just holds him, her hand sinking into his hair as if to anchor herself to this world. "You died and I'm- I'm the one who's having nightmares about it. I shouldn't- I have no right-". 

"Don't be absurd," she shushes him, gently, her breath ghosting over his skin, another proof of her existence he holds to his heart. "You have every right to be upset. Force, if I had to watch you die, I- I'd never recover".

She takes a deep breath. Her chest rises and falls again in slow movements, as if she was readying herself for a fight. It's such a familiar motion - one he's seen so many times, as they fought each other over and over again. 

"I don't remember it. Dying," she breathes out, in the end. Her body is not tense but not exactly relaxed either, as if the memories made her jittery and he holds her tighter, his fingers digging in the flimsy fabric of her nightgown. "I just remember feeling so… _tired_. And then there was only darkness, but it wasn't… it wasn't bad, like the darkness on Exegol. It was warm and comforting, as if someone had wrapped me in a blanket and told me it was okay to rest and it felt so _good_. I was so exhausted and I just wanted to let go for once. And then…I felt you". 

She gently breaks away from the embrace just to stare at him, and even though it's dark, he can make out the little awestruck smile on her face, the way her eyes take him in, as if watching something incredible. She had looked at him like this on Exegol, when she had sensed him. 

"You were so full of light it spilled all around you," she murmurs, and the way she says it - with reverence, as if she was whispering something sacred - makes his heart ache. "It was so impossibly _bright_ and _beautiful_ and… you were calling my name. And then I felt something tug at me, as if you were tugging at a string of my own soul tied with yours, and before I could realize what was happening I was rushing into that light, into you. And I was _back_ ". 

Her fingers come to rest under his chin and she tilts his head up to meet her gaze. There's so much love in the back of her eyes he can't process it, because he can't remember a time in which someone has ever looked at him like that - as if the whole galaxy existed just for them to meet, a whole universe of stars created only to allow them to be there, in this moment, in each other's arms. 

"You _brought me back_ ," she says, wonderstruck, her words so full of marvel, as if she was witnessing something otherworldly. Her fingers cradle his face and it feels like the place where her palm meets his skin is the point where the universe begins. "You saved me. I'm here because of you".

The words escape his lips unbidden. It's so easy to say it, now, in this dark room at the edge of the galaxy, where the only thing he can hear and feel is Rey. 

"I love you," he tells her. 

They've never spoken of it - it's always implied, in the way they hold onto each other, love flooding their bond, rolling off them in waves, flowing freely between the two of them. And it's obvious, really - he almost died to bring her back, and he would have given his life, gladly, for her because a galaxy without her in it was not a galaxy worth living for and she _knows,_ she must know it was all for her. And yet, those words are new on his tongue and only when he finally utters them, he realizes how much he needed to say it, and how much Rey needed to hear it. 

And so, he says it again. "I love you. I can't imagine a life without you and I don't want to. I would have done anything to bring you back".

Who moves first, he doesn't know - all he knows is that Rey is kissing him, soft and sweet and magnificent, and he's kissing her back, as desperate as he was on Exegol, rushing into this feeling head first as he's always rushed into everything in his life. Her hands are into his hair, pulling him into her, as if she wanted to merge their bodies, and his fingers dig into her hips, gripping her so tightly as if he could prevent her from ever leaving again. Light pours from every crack in his soul, from every scar and every wound - they are wrapped in it, a luminous embrace all around them, their bond alive with it, a pulsing flare in the Force. It's wonderful and golden and it feels like home - like something to return to, like someone to belong to. 

When she breaks away, she rests her forehead against his, as if she could touch his thoughts with this gesture. Her breath is ragged and her lips are red and she's never looked more beautiful, darkness and light mixing on her face, making a masterpiece out of it. 

"I love you," she whispers, against his lips, when she leans in to kiss him again and again and again, her love echoing in the bond like a living thing. "I know you know, but you deserve to hear that you're loved. You," she adds, planting a kiss on his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, everywhere she can reach. "Are." Kiss. "So." Kiss. "Loved". 

What he's done to deserve this kind of love - steady and unfaltering and all-encompassing - he doesn't know, but he lets his doubts and ghosts and fears go once again and lets himself feel this, this kind of love that shines on him despite what he's done to deserve it. It feels like a grace, and he knows he will spend his whole life trying to be worthy of it, and somehow, somehow in this terrible, maddening, incredible galaxy, somehow it's enough. 

"Don't ever leave me again," he murmurs, his voice almost ragged, as he buries his head in the crook of her neck again. 

There's something utterly _safe_ in this, as if, with her arms wrapped around him and his body carefully tucked against hers, nothing could ever happen to him. He knows it doesn't work like that - but for once, it's quiet in his mind, there's no voice twisting every thought and no fear gripping his heart. There's just this moment, sacred and utterly domestic at the same time. 

"Never," she replies, her lips pressed against his forehead in the sweetest imitation of a kiss. Her hands are in his hair, threading through it with careful movements as if to soothe him again. It feels like she's trying to lull him to sleep, her breath a rhythmic sound that pulls him under, gently. He feels _protected_ , for the first time in his life. "I'm never leaving you, Ben. _Never_ ". 

When he falls asleep again, there's no nightmare waiting for him in the darkness, ready to torment him - there's only Rey's bright presence, and the warmth of her embrace. 

*

"I was thinking…" 

At his words, Rey cracks one eye open from where she rests, with her head pillowed on his lap and her body sprawled on the blanket. The sunlight hits her skin just _right_ , turning it golden and making her freckles darker somehow, and it's a testament to how enthralled he is with her, that he barely looks at the breathtaking landscape made of waterfalls and green fields all around them and has eyes for her only. 

She raises one eyebrow at his words. "Oh, don't do that," she says, her smile turning into a smug grin. "It never ends well".

It's so easy to poke at her side, making her squirm and giggle. " _I was thinking_ ," he repeats, when Rey stops giggling and settles back, her head in his lap. He slowly cards his fingers through her hair in a familiar gesture by now, knowing all too well it relaxes her. 

Her eyes flutter closed again, her lashes grazing at her checks, and she hums, quietly, as if to tell him she's listening. "Go on," she says, raising her hands as if to plead for innocence. "I won't interrupt again". 

He's so painfully mesmerized by everything she does he's sure he'd love even her interruptions, but he pokes at her again, just because he can. It's intoxicating, the possibility of brushing his fingers against her skin and he can never pass the opportunity to touch her, to feel her, so solid and warm and real underneath his fingertips. 

There's a beat of silence before he speaks, as if he was searching for the right words - a quest he thinks he will never complete. "I just…" he starts, then shakes his head. "We can't be the last two Force users in the galaxy, can we? There must be others, somewhere". 

A wrinkle appears in the middle of her forehead and he can sense her confusion in the bond, even if she doesn't move from her spot. "Yeah, I suppose?" she asks him, as if she wasn't exactly sure of where he's headed. "What is your plan? Hunting them down and intimidate them into not messing up?" 

He lets out a breathy exhale that could pass for a laughter. 

"How am I the one with bad planning skills between the two of us?" he tells her, making her scrunch her nose in that adorable way of hers. Before she can come up with some witty retort, he continues. "No, it's… something else". 

She must notice the shift in his voice, because she does tease him anymore. "Oh?" 

"I just thought many of them could be children and I couldn't stop myself from wondering…" His voice almost dies out, but he pushes through, because he feels like he has to do this. No, he _wants_ to do this. "They must be so _scared_ ". 

"Scared?" The frown fades away from her face, even if her confusion is still palpable in the bond as she opens her eyes to look at him. "What do you mean?" 

His heart thunders in his chest and for a moment he hears nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat, rushing to his ears, louder than the waterfalls. That's the hardest part, he supposes - being earnest, being vulnerable, letting her see through him. She's right there in his soul, a warm presence where once there was only a terrible cold, and for the first time it doesn't scare him as much, having someone in his mind, but it's hard to let go of the fear that has kept him together for so long. 

"My powers… they started to manifest when I was a kid," he explains, his eyes focused on the way his hands work between her chestnut strands. "That's when things started to get worse for me and- I mean, I was lucky in a way. My family knew about the Force, at least". 

This is enough to catch Rey's attention. She shifts, raising her head from his lap and sitting upright, and the look in her eyes is enough to warm his heart, because she's staring at him with so much love and affection and tenderness, and she can't erase the memories, but she can help him bear them, somehow. 

She must understand him, because she leans in and takes his hand, intertwining their fingers. Her thumb brushes against his knuckles with careful, gentle movements, as if to reassure him. 

"I was a child too," she tells him, tracing patterns against the back of his hand. The press of her skin against his is soothing, as if it calmed a fear nestled deep inside his heart. "When my powers first manifested. I hadn't realized it before but I see it now. It wasn't something big, no explosions or floating things, it was just… some sort of intuition, I suppose. I knew when the next sandstorm would hit or where to jump to avoid falling to my death or which parts were worth scavenging. I just… knew somehow". 

He nods, squeezing her hand as if he could erase all the memories of that awful desert planet from her mind. Something churns unpleasantly inside him and he's surprised to realize that some semblance of rage and fury still lingers somewhere in his mind, when he thinks about Rey, alone and desperate on Jakku, counting day after day in the remote hope someone would come back for her. He wants to burn that planet to the ground, he wants to make someone _pay_. He lets out a deep breath, as if to let go of that thought. 

She must sense it, though, because her fingers tighten their hold on his hand. 

"Yes, that was the Force, looking out for you, helping you," he says, then, and a soft smile spreads on her lips, because she senses the thought that goes unsaid. _I wish I could have helped you._ "But what if the Force doesn't look out for you? What if you're a kid and-" He swallows, and he's glad for the reassuring weight of her hand in his own. "-and suddenly you have all these abilities and this kind of raw power and no one knows what it means and you're on your own, figuring it out?" 

The thing about Rey - she knows when to push him, and she knows when to wait. And so she waits, silently, her thumb brushing against his knuckles, her presence the brightest light in the back of his mind, soothing him. 

"I just don't want any kid to grow up the way I did," he manages to say, in the end, staring at their joined hands, afraid of looking up at her. "I don't want any kid to hear his own parents talking about him and his powers as if he was a monster, or to be terrified of who he is or hate himself because of something that's out of his control. I don't want anyone to grow resentful and full of rage". 

What he doesn't say is that he doesn't want anyone to make his mistakes and burn the whole galaxy down for it - it feels too raw, too dark to say on such a bright day, but she understands him, of course, because she's in his very soul and she knows every corner of it, every dark spot and scar, but also every spark of light. 

Her fingers tighten their hold on his hand again, and when he looks at her she brings it to her lips, pressing a gentle, hesitant kiss to the inside of his wrist. 

"I don't want any kid to grow up the way I did, either," she says, in the end, her eyes never leaving his face. She does what she always does - she puts on a brave face as if the memory couldn't hurt her like this, but he can hear the heaviness in her breath, can see the trembling of her lips, can sense the scar this has left her, despite how much she tries to pretend it hasn't. It will take time, he thinks, to let the wounds heal. It will take time for them both. "No one deserves to be so alone".

It's unconscious - he leans in, his free hand cupping her face, his thumb smoothing her skin, brushing against the constellation of freckles smattered all over her cheek. "You'll never have to be alone again," he murmurs, his eyes searching hers, as if to project her all the thoughts he can't translate into words, all the utter and unshakable devotion for her he has in him. 

Her hand tightens its grip on his and her blunt nails sink into his skin, as if she wanted to assure herself he's real. It's nothing short of painful, but he stays silent and lets her have this moment, because she needs it - she needs to know she's not alone. 

"And you'll never have to be afraid again," she replies, quietly. Then, her lips curve into a soft, hesitant smile and she lets his hand go, as if suddenly realizing how tightly she was gripping him. "What did you have in mind?" 

His hand falls away from her face, but his eyes stay focused on her, as if she captured him somehow. 

"I don't know," he says, in the end, trying to shrink into his own shoulders. He sighs, terrified of the next few words, knowing he has to say them, he _wants_ to say them. "I thought we could find them and… help them. Give them some sort of training. Telling them they don't have to be afraid. I don't know, I just thought we could do _something_ ". 

There's a moment of silence that frightens him to death, but he knows Rey's waiting for him to say what he wants to say as she always does - it feels like she's always a few steps ahead of him, but instead of running forward, she waits for him, holding out her hand. 

"I don't think that what happened to us happened for a reason because that would be just cruel and I can't believe the Force is that malign," he murmurs, pressing his lips together. "What happened was horrible and there's no meaning in it. But maybe… we can do something good with what the Force has thrown at us. It feels wrong not to".

He stares at her, his frightened little heart beating so loudly he can't hear anything else but the rushing of blood, and then Rey surprises him as she always does, pulling the ground underneath his feet just as she has done right from that first time in the forest of Takodana, turning his life into a whirlwind out of his control - she _smiles_. It's bright as always, a different quality to it that he can't quite put his finger on, but that leaves him breathless. 

His senses are attuned to her only, as if the world had suddenly faded out of existence, and when she slides closer, twining her arms around his neck and carefully climbing into his lap, his hands come to rest automatically, as if they were practicing an old dance, on her hips to steady her and it feels like holding his whole galaxy into his arms, as if all the stars were trapped into the curve of her smile, in the waves of her hair, in her delicate bones.

"So," she says. Up close her smile is even more radiant, almost too much. Her fingers play with the hair at the base of his neck, tracing lazy patterns against his skin, and the warmth of her body makes him sigh. "You want to start your own Jedi academy?" 

It takes him a moment to find the right words, and it surprises him to realize he always knew them, somehow. 

"I'm no Jedi," he replies, quietly. 

It has taken his whole life for him to say it - a thought he has always battled with, even when he was a kid and he was trying his best to become what Master Skywalker and his parents expected him to be. He's spent half of his life trying to prove them he could be the perfect Jedi, and then the other half wishing he had succeeded and then hating himself for wishing it. Now the truth spills from his lips with no effort and he doesn't feel the bitterness that it always brought with it. 

"I don't think I've ever been a Jedi, not a real one," he adds, feeling surprisingly light, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He feels - _free_ , for the first time in his life, as if the chains that bound him were suddenly gone. The scars they have left on his wrists and ankles are still there and he thinks they will never fade completely, but the _freedom_ \- oh, the freedom is so new and beautiful and intoxicating. "It doesn't have to be like that, anyway, we both know that. We can build something better, you and I."

She lets out a small exhale, as if the same sense of freedom had washed over her, too. 

"A new order," she muses. Despite her tone, her smile is gentle and her eyes are shining, glittering from some kind of happiness he feels bubble deep within the bond, a wave that threatens to pull them under. "That's what you asked me, back on the Supremacy. To build a new order". 

His lips curl into a self-deprecating smile and he looks away from her, staring at something over her shoulder as if to get his thoughts together. 

"I was wrong then," he murmurs, quietly. 

His mistakes will always haunt him - there's no way he can forget what he did, and he doesn't think he wants to forget. But, and he thinks this is the lesson he had to learn back then - he can _learn_ from them. He doesn't have to kill the past anymore - he can build something new from it. 

"I was scared and lost and I didn't know better," he continues, his thoughts chasing each other in his mind. "But maybe this time is different. We _can_ build something better. We can teach the kids to work with their fears and their emotions instead of ruling them out and to accept their own darkness because darkness is part of every living thing, just as light is. We can teach them find a balance in everything, including themselves". 

When he finally gathers the courage to look at her again, Rey is staring intently at him, her eyes so full of love and what looks like _awe_. As if she were witnessing the birth of a star at the heart of the galaxy. 

"I- I can't take back what I did," he says, then, looking up at her. "But I can do _something,_ we can do something. We can build a better world together". 

He's breathless by the time he finishes his speech and he knows that's the longest he's talked in a very long time, maybe in forever. He's never been good with words anyway - he's made his way into this world with the swirling of his lightsaber and the pure force of his own pain, and he never learned how to put into words what was tearing him apart. But he has to try now, he _wants_ to try, and he feels weirdly vulnerable under her gaze. It reminds of a time in which he had unmasked just for her, allowing himself to be the boy he was underneath the monster he had fashioned himself into - and, in a way, it feels like he's done the same thing now, letting her see him for who he is, his inner thoughts out in the open for her to read. 

Her eyes are full of tears, but her lips are curved in that gentle, private smile of hers that he has learned she reserves for him only, and he thinks, he _hopes_ he's done one thing right in his life. Her hand comes to cup his face, her palm pressed against his cheek, her thumb lingering on the place where his scar used to be, just a few weeks ago. It feels like she's healing him all over again - and yet, the most surprising thing is that, between it all, between late night talks under the stars and days spent lying in the sun, he's healed himself. 

"Well," she starts. The sun shines gently on her, giving her a faint halo around her hair, and he's captured by her, by the brightness and the darkness coexisting in her soul, a perfect balance. "Our place is really big". 

That's definitely not what he was expecting from this and he knits his brows together. "What?" 

His confusion must be easy to read on his face, because she giggles - and it's such a pure, unfiltered sound. He'd give his life for this giggle, for the way her face lights up, for the dimples on her cheeks, for this moment of bright happiness and vibrant colors. 

"We could turn one of the halls into a training room," she tells him, as her smile gets bigger and brighter and a vast, incredible joy starts to flood his mind right where she always is, as if a burst of color had exploded from the corner of his soul that brushes against hers. "There's plenty of space for a dorm too, don't you think?" 

It takes him a moment to understand what she's saying - the notion arrives to him in slow tendrils and then it finally sinks in and-

\- he _beams_. 

He can't help it - he feels so stupidly relieved and happy it almost comes as a physical sensation, making him dizzy. It's heady and breathtaking and it's real and he never thought he could have this - this happiness, this purpose, something vibrant and radiant within his soul, a love so bright it puts the rest of the galaxy to shame and a lifetime to make things right, and all of this is _his_

His mouth opens out of its own accord, but no sound comes out of it because there are no words that could possibly convey all of this - the joy, the sense of purpose, the sheer and utter serenity of it, the simple and terrible happiness of being loved and seen. 

She laughs again, her fingers cradling his jaw. 

"Are you alright?" She prods gently into his mind, as if to assure herself she hasn't broken him for good and Ben lets her, his thoughts brushing hers, his wild, impossible happiness echoing in her. 

"Yes," he says, when he finally remembers how to speak. "You just have the disarming habit of rendering me speechless. Force, Rey," he adds, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead just to better look at her, as if he couldn't get enough of her face. "Are you serious?" 

He doesn't dare to _hope_ , and yet she nods, so sure, so steady.

"Of course." She presses her lips together, and then she gifts him a shy, hopeful smile. Her eyes are teary again, but there's so much joy on the lines of her face and in the back of her mind and Ben is breathless again because he did this - he's made her _happy_. "I know it won't be easy and it will take time and I don't even know if we're ready _now_ , but we can try. I _want_ to try. I don't want any kid to grow up alone and scared like we did, not when we can do something about it. We can build a better world together". 

He nods, a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes. "Together". 

Their hands find each other almost automatically, as if they'd learned this in some previous existence - two souls orbiting around each other since the beginning of time itself. Her fingers fit perfectly between his own when he laces them together and Rey melts into him, smiling so quietly and hopefully that his heart feels somehow too big for his own chest, as if it could crack his ribcage open just to hide itself beside Rey's. 

He can see it - this future he's never allowed himself to imagine. Kids running all over the palace, their silvery giggles echoing in the halls. He imagines Rey, teaching them how to wield their sabers, how to defend themselves but also how to be compassionate and see the best in people even when they can't see it for themselves. Teaching them how to _love_. And, for a moment, he imagines even himself - happy and healed and balanced, telling kids to embrace every part of their soul and not to be afraid of themselves. 

He can't take back what he's done - he can't bring the galaxy to what it was before pain and hatred and rage consumed him and turned him into the monster that had set a burning fire at the center of the world. But he can make something good out of his life, he can build something better. He can help others, he can prevent them from making his mistakes, he can undo what has been done to him. 

For a moment, he lingers on the thought of a kid - a fierce, determined little thing with his hair and his pout and Rey's freckles and her willful attitude and a toothy grin that's just his own. He'd love him right, he likes to think. He'd never let him doubt of it. He'd do what his family hadn't managed to do back when he was a child - he'd _accept_ him, the dark and the light and everything in between, and he'd love him exactly for who he is, the good and the bad of him. He'd teach him how to read and how to do calligraphy and how to pilot a ship. He'd put him to bed every night with a story and a kiss to his forehead. And he'd never, ever let anything happen to him. 

Rey knows - of course she knows. She knows him better than anyone else in this galaxy, knows every bit of his soul and every fleeting thought in his mind and of course she sees it - but they both say nothing, content to just contemplate this image for a moment. One day, they both think, one day - when they'll be ready and all the wounds will be healed and the time will be right. The smile she gifts him is a promise. 

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, her fingers tracing lazy patterns against the nape of his neck. "Do I have to call you Master Solo now?" 

A laughter bubbles in his chest and escapes his lips, so terribly easy. He lets go of her hand only to wrap his arms around her waist, bringing her closer and burying his head into the crook of her neck. 

"Shut up," he murmurs. He nuzzles his nose against her skin, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, and she hums, a little pleased sound that always makes him weak. 

Of course, Rey being Rey, she doesn't back down, but, he thinks, that's one of the many things he loves about her. Her stubbornness and the way she dares him to fight her, baring her teeth and scrunching her nose, and looking at him with that teasing smile he knows so well. Oh, how he loves that smile. 

"You like it, don't you?" she asks him, her voice dropping, so low it makes his stomach drop. His hands travel upward, resting on her hips for a moment. "You want me to call you Master So- _No! Ben!_ " 

Her words are cut off by a burst of laughter when he starts tickling her and her body convulses as she tries to scramble away from him and his hands, falling gracelessly from his lap as he keeps on tormenting her. She lets out a breathy exhale when her back hits the blanket and she ends up like this, lying flat on her back, her hair splayed around her like a halo, some sort of wild happiness in her smile. 

He hovers above her, supporting his weight on his hands, which are resting on either side of her head. 

"What were you saying?" he asks her. A smug grin spreads on lips and one of his hands comes to travel up and down her arm, his fingertips lightly brushing against her skin, eliciting goosebumps in their wake. 

It never gets tiring, to see the effect he has on her. 

"It's not fair," she says, between heavy breaths and silvery giggles, a blush high on her cheeks. Despite her words, she laces her arms around his neck, her hands finding their way into his hair as if they belonged there somehow. "You can't win an argument by tickling your opponent". 

His hand comes to rest at her waist, brushing against the fabric of her tunic as his fingers grip her hip, gently enough not to hurt her. He lowers himself, then, pressing a kiss to the place where her jaw meets her neck, eliciting a pleased little sound from her. 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says against her skin. She hums at the endearment, arching in his touch as if wanting to merge their bodies. "That's what you get for loving a scoundrel". 

A huff of breath that could pass for an aggravated sigh escapes her lips and she tugs at his hair. "Shut _up_ ".

"I feel like I should say _make me_ ," he replies, as he kisses a path up her neck, relishing in the way she melts against him. "But we both know you'd like that way too much". 

Her laughter echoes in the valley and in his heart alike, when he bends down to kiss her. Her lips are soft and sweet as always and the way she sighs into the kiss as soon as he coaxes her mouth open makes him weak. He can sense her erratic heartbeat in the bond, and the pure, shining happiness of this moment is a flare in the Force so bright it could light up the whole universe. He kisses her as if time meant nothing - as if stars could flicker in and out of existence in the span of this kiss, a whole galaxy born and extinguished by the time his lips press a last, fervent promise to hers. 

When he pulls away, she's so beautiful his heart twists painfully in his chest. She's lying on an old blanket, her hair a mess around her face, a flush spreading from her cheeks to her collarbones and yet, bathed as she is in the golden light of the day, she looks like every dream he's ever had, like the vision of a distant future that was always out of reach for him. Now, she smiles up at him, bright and radiant and loving, and Ben feels like he's in the right place for the first time in his life - as if after all these years, after all the pain and the scars and the nightmares, he had finally made it home. 

Somehow, it's enough.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> was this just an excuse for writing way too many words and be sappy about these two? yes, probably. i just felt like i needed to give them the life they deserved. sadly, that's not happening in canon, but that's the beauty of transformative works, i guess. to take what you hold dear to your heart and give it a second chance. also, just letting you know i'm never going to shut up about ben and rey, you'll have to deal with me for a long, long time!!
> 
> annyway, i just wanted to take a moment to thank all of you. this past month has been difficult for us all and i'm still processing everything, but this community helped me and reminded me i'm not alone in this, and for that i am so thankful. thank you, reylos ❤️
> 
> you can find me also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/akosmia) and [tumblr](http://kylorensx.tumblr.com/) where i've been crying non stop since december the 19th and shitposting about it. and i promise i'll come back with more fluff ❤️


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